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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615215">Time To Relax</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherThingsInHead/pseuds/OtherThingsInHead'>OtherThingsInHead</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Mild Language, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Reader-Insert, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:28:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615215</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherThingsInHead/pseuds/OtherThingsInHead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have thought this morning that laughter is not the only thing you are going to choke on in your boss’s office today.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell Lord/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Time To Relax</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“M—Mr. Lord?” </p><p>You are hesitant to step into the office. It's oddly dark inside, the curtains are all closed, only a small desk lamp illuminates the room poorly, making the atmosphere feel more grim and heavy. </p><p>Maxwell Lord is sitting on his sofa, hovering over a big pile of paper. His dark form is tense, almost motionless if you don’t count his lips, moving silently with whatever he is currently reading from the mess in front of him. </p><p>“The conference room is ready,” you tell him, getting just as much attention as you did when you came in: zero. “Is there…,” you clear your throat and try again. “Is there anything else I can help with?”</p><p>“No—what?” Mr. Lord turns and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise as if he just notices you for the first time, then immediately, he goes back to his work. “No, thank you, I... I’m afraid you can’t.” </p><p>He is probably right. The future of the Black Gold Cooperative depends on how much money gets invested into it and that depends on the success of this meeting itself which depends on… Mr. Lord alone. It's too much responsibility for only one man you think and feel a strong urge to stay and ease a little on that pressure. Nonetheless, you are useless and since your presence is no more required, you turn to leave. Just as you finally find the will to take the first step, you hear him growl. “Damn migrain!”</p><p>Encouraged by the sudden opportunity to stay, you close the door behind you and walk to the medicine cabinet to get some pills and a glass of water. Mr. Lord is now sitting leaned back on the sofa, one arm draped over his eyes, looking all hot and rugged. </p><p>He is wearing a simple white shirt with a dark, silk tie. The top first button is undone and the tie is loosened around his neck. He is not particularly handsome—you have to admit—but there is something about him that ignites your body with an uncontrollable want and curiosity ever since the first day you met. He is charismatic, he is charming, he is popular yet, seemingly unaffected by any attention that is not focused on his career. </p><p>You can’t tell what exactly awakened this mysterious and powerful attraction to him inside you, but it is there and it is real and it makes your imagination go wild. You often catch yourself fantasizing about him, what it would be like to bend over his office desk and let him rail you against it, or sit on his freshly shaven face and drown him in your pussy. </p><p>“Mr. Lord, you should take a break from this mess sometimes,” you say, placing the water onto the table along with the pills and kneel to his feet to start picking up the crumpled papers that have been scattered all over the floor.</p><p>“I can’t. I have to—” His attention shifts the moment he opens his eyes. You are on all fours with your ass hiked up, crawling towards a piece of garbage under the small but very expensive coffee table. “What the hell are you doing?”</p><p>“Ouch, shit!” You jump and bump your head into the table top as you try to get yourself out from underneath it. “I’m sorry, I just tried to help,” you say, massaging your skull with a painful grimace on your face.</p><p>“By getting a headache to yourself too?”</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>It’s not even that funny.</p><p>You try not to give the impression of being a complete lunatic and stifle your bubbling laughter to a more suitable level. Which is hard because one, Mr. Lord has a more sarcastic sense of humor than you have thought and two, now he also has a barely visible but disturbingly cute smile on his lips. “I’ve told you, you can’t.” </p><p>His tone is dismissive but his gaze is hot and persistent on you as he leans forward to pick up the pills and suddenly you feel your body stiffen and your heart quicken. He is close enough for you to catch a whiff of his cologne—a warm blend of earthy, fruity and spicy scents—and turn your insides to jelly. “You don’t…” you start, feeling a rush of courage at the casual but not too subtle gaze that lingers on the cleavage of your blouse. “You don’t even give me a chance.” </p><p>It’s ridiculous how fucking turned on you are, sitting on your heels in between your boss’s legs, watching his throat work with the gulps as he takes the medicine. He seems unfazed by your words but it is possible that he just doesn’t know what kind of help you are offering. He runs a hand through his dyed hair and checks the time on his wrist watch. Shit, you have to make this clear.</p><p>Taking a deep breath you bite down on your lip and place your hands on his knees. You feel the muscles contract at your touch but he stays still, looking down at you with a thrilled but slightly confused expression on his face. </p><p>“I can help you relax... if you let me,” you say, almost whispering, simultaneously sliding your hands further up his thighs when a sudden grip halts you. </p><p>Okay this… this is embarrassing.</p><p>Your stomach drops and your body starts to tremble as you raise your gaze, terrified that somehow you misread the signs and crossed a line you shouldn’t have. But when your eyes lock with his, you don’t feel embarrassment. Instead, you feel powerful and in control so you decide to ignore the insecure grip around your wrists and move again to undone his pants. </p><p>Mr. Lord feels the tension slip from his body and dissolve into a warm, tingling and exciting feeling in his spine. He knows this shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be on your knees, in his office, with his cock in your hands but he likes the way his body reacts to your touch. </p><p>His cock is gorgeous. It’s dark and heavy and hard and feels insanely good against your tongue. You barely taste the tip of it and your panties are already soaked with your own arousal. Your pussy throbs painfully with every groan he can’t hold back and you try your best not to seem too desperate as you keep stuffing him deeper and harder down your throat.</p><p>You wish it never ends. You swear you could suck his dick for hours, make him throb and moan for you like this but soon the conference room fills up with various businessmen, waiting for your boss to finish fucking your mouth. </p><p>It doesn’t take long until he pulls away. </p><p>“You—you’re going to make me come,” he warns you, his grip is gentle but firm on your jaw and you know how fucked up you must look with your lips glistening in saliva and eyes glazed with hunger but you don’t give a single fuck how whiney you sound when you beg for him to cum into your mouth. “Yes, please… Mr. Lord. I want that.” </p><p>Like a small earthquake, his deep groan shudders through you and your mouth is full of his fat cock again. His big, sweaty hands pressing gently on the back of your head, urging you to suck him deeper as he pounds his cum down your throat. </p><p>You lick him clean like a kitten then wipe your mouth, feeling satisfied but equally wanting more. Mr. Lord glances at his wrist watch again and tucks his softened cock back into his pants with a visible disappointment on his face. He is running out of time.</p><p>“It’s okay,” you reassure him and get on your feet to smooth your hair and adjust your skirt. “We have work to do.” </p><p>“Right,” he says, still sounding out of breath and looking more flustered than you would have expected. </p><p>He follows you to the door, reaches for the knob then pauses. “That was… you were very helpful,” he says, his smile is wide and genuine and sends a little flutter to your belly. </p><p>You place your hand on top of his and give it a light squeeze before turning the knob with it. “It was my pleasure,” you blink up at him through your lashes and walk away with a wide grin on your face and a pleasant, pulsing ache that still thrums between your legs.</p>
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